


help me through the hopeless haze

by johniaurens



Series: call me an addict to your elastic moods [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Banter, Choking, Cock Warming, Communication, Crying During Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Domestic, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Sex Toys, Sounding, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-04
Updated: 2016-09-04
Packaged: 2018-08-13 02:30:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7958845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johniaurens/pseuds/johniaurens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title's from change your mind by the killers</p><p>the timeline of this stretches from the 1st fic to like. beyond the latest update i guess? shrugs. u dont Have to read the other fics in the series i guess but u def should. everyones trans. alex is genderfluid (demiboy/boy/agender), laf is a trans boy, and john is a demiboy. </p><p>friends if ur reading this....pls dont kinkshame me for any of this.....</p>
    </blockquote>





	help me through the hopeless haze

**Author's Note:**

> title's from change your mind by the killers
> 
> the timeline of this stretches from the 1st fic to like. beyond the latest update i guess? shrugs. u dont Have to read the other fics in the series i guess but u def should. everyones trans. alex is genderfluid (demiboy/boy/agender), laf is a trans boy, and john is a demiboy. 
> 
> friends if ur reading this....pls dont kinkshame me for any of this.....

It's been - 

Alex realizes with a pang that he has no idea how long it's been. 

Could have been minutes. Could have been hours. He's kind of dizzy with it at this point, honestly, the feeling of John's dick heavy in his mouth and the hardwood floor against his knees and the way he just doesn't _know_ how long it's been or what's happening in the world beyond John's dick and the wooden floor and the desk that he's under currently. 

His jaw aches, his thighs ache, and his neck is stiff as _fuck_ but John asked him to stay, John slipped in the plug and told him to stay very still, John fed him his dick until he was choking on it and then told him not to move. He's good at following instructions. Just ask John. 

It's sort of his own fault that he's here currently – John's busy, John's writing reports or some shit, he's doing actually important stuff, and Alex just really wants to get fucked, honestly. _Needy_ , said John, and then he let him get into his lap and kissed him for a bit and then he got out the lube and slipped in the toy they use for this kind of stuff, the one with a flared base, the one that will stay in. 

"Under the desk," John said, and Alex went. 

That was - 

Alex doesn't know how long ago that was. It _feels_ like it's been ages. It's therapeutic, in a way, he thinks – he gets to get into his head and out of his head at the same time. It's kind of weird, honestly – he'd think he'd drift off and panic with nothing real to do, but the ache in his jaw and the solid weight of John's cock on his tongue keep him just grounded enough to make him feel drifty without the panic, without the dissociation. It's good. It's nice. 

"Stay," says John, and then he pulls out. Alex whines, and it's one part in pain and one part in disappointment. His jaw spasms. John gets up from his chair and then he leaves the room, and Alex rubs his face, tries to massage some of the pain out of his jaw and cheeks. He considers briefly getting up to stretch but decides against it, unsure of how long John is going to be gone. 

A few more minutes pass. John doesn't return. Alex puts his hands on his thighs and tries to ignore the plug. He's not sure if he's allowed to react to its existence or if it's supposed to just be a reminder. Maybe John will take it out when he's done with the reports and slide into its place. He figures its better if he doesn't try anything. He drifts. 

John puts his hands into Alex's hair when he comes back. "Hey, princess." 

"Hey," says Alex, tired, and opens his mouth, closes it, repeats a few times to stretch his jaw a little bit. It makes an audible popping noise and John pets over the bones, pets his lips with one thumb until Alex opens his mouth obediently and lets John slip the digit into his mouth.   
  
"Can you keep going for a little longer?" asks John, and Alex nods, slowly.   
  
"Look at me, baby," and Alex realizes that he's closed his eyes, fights them open. John smiles down at him, and the angle isn't flattering but Alex's breath still stutters in his throat. John is still beautiful above him. 

"I'm almost done," says John, and Alex nuzzles into his thigh, mouths at the tip of his cock, and John smiles down at him. Alex closes his eyes again.   
  
"Lean back baby, open your mouth," whispers John, and Alex does, and then John's sinking in in in.

–

"Are you sure about this?" asks John. He's lying on his back, naked, a pillow under his hips, and there's a hungry look in his eyes, yes, but there's something warm underneath that hunger and Alex feels like floating.

"Yeah," says Alex, because it was his idea, duh, he offered, of course he's sure.  
  
John smiles. "I just worry, y'know. We don't have to do this." 

Alex opens the cap of the lube bottle. "I have a safeword. It'll be fine, I'll use it if it's bad. I'm not you." It's not supposed to be a jab, exactly, but John still makes a face that's a little too uncomfortable for Alex's liking.   
  
"Sorry," he says, and John just nods, gives him a smile. The reminder stings a little but it's true, honestly.   
  
"Promise you'll safeword if you need to," says Alex after a few beats, and John spreads his legs a little, blows Alex a kiss.   
  
"Not an answer," chastises Alex, and John sighs, says "yes, I will safeword if I need to, I promise."

Alex picks up the bottle again and John squirms a little in anticipation, and the motion makes his dick sort of smack against his stomach. Alex is – he's staring, there's no other way to put it, tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth, and John preens under his gaze.   
  
"C'mon," he says, and Alex does, squirts lube onto his fingers from the bottle and then he's got a finger against John's hole. 

It's a stretch. John hasn't done this in months and the intrusion feels weird at first, foreign, but then Alex has one hand on his dick and it's good again, familiar. Muscle memory, he supposes. Autopilot, but in a good way. Comfortable. Safe.

"Okay?" asks Alex, and John smiles, goes "yeah, yeah, you can – more," and Alex complies, adds lube, slips in another finger. 

Alex hasn't done this before, John knows – he prefers bottoming, doesn't really get into toppy stuff, but he wakes up in these moods sometimes. Wants to do stuff he'd usually never do. Makes him say shit like "hey John, what if you bottomed today?" and then actually follow through with his plans.

It's cute. Alex has got his brow furrowed and everything, and John thinks it's cute. Alex is cute. 

"More?" asks Alex, and when John snickers at him he swats his hip, thrusts his fingers in further. Somehow, and John could not say how, he manages to hit his prostate. 

A few things happen as a result -

John makes a noise halfway between alarm and arousal and twists his hips against Alex's hand, desperate for more direct contact.

Alex freezes right where he is, which means that when John arches his back and then slumps back onto the bed the tips of his fingers press right against his prostate. 

"Oh," chokes John out, and then suddenly Alex understands _exactly_ what is happening.   
  
"Oh," says Alex in a very different tone, "is that it?" and then he's rubbing circles with his fingers, delight evident in his eyes.   
  
"Yeah," says John even though it doesn't really matter at this point because Alex isn't dumb and Alex _knows_ what he's doing now, and that's always a little dangerous with him.   
  
"Okay," says Alex, and takes out his fingers. 

"What are you doing?" says John, because he's suffering. Alex gives him a confused look.   
  
"Lube?"   
  
"Ah," says John, "that's fair."   
  
Alex gives him a weird look, but slicks up his fingers again anyway, comes back with three fingers. It takes him a bit to find his prostate, but when he does he hooks his fingers around it firmly, gives it a tap, and John chokes on his tongue.   
  
"Oh, hold on," says Alex, and then he's bending down and taking John's dick into his mouth and John makes an angry sound which in turn makes Alex grin around his dick, makes him laugh, crinkle-eyed and sweet. John's heart would ache if he wasn't so damn turned on. 

Alex pulls off, wipes his mouth, replaces his mouth with his free hand.   
  
"Hey. Strap-on next time?" he asks, all innocent eyes, still knuckle deep in John, and John almost passes out.

–

“Uh,” says Alex.

“What?” asks John, “Don't act like you've never seen a sound in your life.” 

And sure enough – between his thumb and his index finger he's holding a thin steel rod, complete with a weird twisty thing in one end, rounded out in the other. 

“And that goes...where exactly?” 

John taps on the sound. “My dick.”

There's a few seconds of complete silence.

“Isn't this one of those things we should discuss beforehand?” asks Alex, a little uncertain, like he's not sure what the protocol for situations like this is.   
  
“Oh,” realizes John, “yeah, probably. Sorry. I forget.”  
  
Alex doesn't seem uncomfortable, exactly, they've done things a lot weirder than this, things that should and did freak them out, but he's nervous. John winces, very carefully places the sound in its case. 

“Sorry,” apologizes John.   
  
“It's fine,” says Alex, and shuffles forward. “What's the twisty thing do?”

John fiddles with the case. “It's there to keep it in place so it doesn't like. Disappear, I guess. I don't know if that can happen? But this way it definitely won't happen. And when it's. In. It looks like a heart? It's kind of cute.” Alex makes a face that's a mix of fascination and horror, and John winces again. 

“We don't have to do this today? Or ever? It's fine. I'm sorry. I keep forgetting what we've talked about before and what we haven't,” and Alex goes “no, no, it's fine, I want to try it, tell me how it works,” and then John is taking the sound out of the case again.   
  
“Uh,” he says, “not much to explain? You put it in and it should sort of slide in on its own, or if doesn't you kind of press it in and then it's. There.” 

Alex blinks at him. “And this is...pleasurable? Or is this one of those pain things?” 

John finds himself seriously considering this. “It doesn't really hurt? It just feels sort of full. Kind of weird. No, scratch that, really weird. But it's nice? It's not a _pain_ thing, I won't cry or anything.” 

Alex nods, fiddles with his own hands, looks at the wall next to John's head.   
  
“Okay,” he says.   
  
“Okay?” confirms John.   
  
“Yeah. Explain to me how it works, exactly?”

John grins. “I can do that, yeah.”

–

The first time the three of them fuck Alex cries.

It's not – don't get him wrong, it's not _bad_ , he's very much into it, but it's, very understandably, a stressful time for Gil. He's used to emotional sex, maybe, and he himself has cried before, but there's a difference between maybe letting a few tears leak out of his eyes because he loves the other person so much he doesn't know what to do with his feelings (romantic) and breaking into sobs (not romantic, and also scary). 

So Alex bursts into tears and Gil backs off like he's been burned.   
  
"Green," says Alex, confused, but Gil says "yellow, sorry," and then he crashes into John who's sitting behind him on the bed. And then Gil tears up as well, and then John is hushing him and hugging him. 

"He does that sometimes, he'll be fine," whispers John into Gil's ear, Gil practically in John's lap, long limbs wrapped around his body as John pets his face. His beard is still a little wet from going down on Alex.   
  
"I'm sorry," says Gil.   
  
"Baby, don't apologize," says John, all firm, and he's using his dom voice which is weird because they're not doing a scene so Alex laughs a little bit but Gil burrows further into John's body, comforted by it. 

Alex grumbles. He's not crying anymore, just looks a little annoyed.   
  
"I'm dying here," he says, because he was getting close and he's getting cold.   
  
"Stop being so dramatic," chastises John, "you scared the baby. Look at what you've done."   
  
Gil scowls at that. "I'm not a baby."   
  
John pats his head and hushes him again.   
  
"Not my fault he's so beard-y and scratchy and feels like so _much_ ," mumbles Alex, "I wasn't _trying_ to freak him out." 

Gil giggles at this, and it's an oddly wet sound.   
  
"Sorry?" he says, and it sounds more like a question, "I can shave."   
  
Alex bristles. "Don't you dare." 

John hides his face into Gil's shoulder and laughs, and Gil swats him a little, but he's smiling too.   
  
Alex softens a little bit. "Hey, I'm sorry. Are you okay? I'm not laughing at you, baby. It's fine if you need to stop," and Gil goes a little bit mumbly and embarrassed but he says "yeah, yeah, let's keep going," and then he's smiling and falling forward into Alex again, "I just freaked out a little. I'm good." 

"Good," says Alex, delighted, "please do keep going." 

Gil kisses his belly just under his ribs and then does just that.

–

“Cock warming,” says Gil blandly from the doorway, “this something y'all do all the time?”

Alex buries his face into John's shoulder and whines.   
  
“Don't be silly,” says John, who is still mostly clothed and trying very hard to get something done over Alex's body. He's got one arm wrapped around Alex's waist, and he's using the other one to type on his laptop. His laptop is a little too far away from him on the desk and he has to stretch his arm to reach the keyboard, which is a little annoying, but Alex is being so good (warm, wet, clenching) for him he doesn't want to move.   
  
“Don't be silly. I hardly ever have to do any work stuff at home. I can't take him to work with me, can I?” and Alex makes a displeased noise, like he wishes he could.   
  
Gil watches as Alex flexes his thighs, moves up maybe a few inches, drops down, shivers, a full body thing. His mouth opens, just a little, and he must have made a noise because John says “sh, baby girl,” and then a beat later when Alex closes both his eyes and his mouth, “good boy.” Alex shudders again, and this time John, too, makes a sound. 

Gil takes a cautious step into the bedroom. “Okay,” he says, and then he pauses because he's not sure what he's doing in there, exactly. “Don't let me bother you?” 

John snorts. “Don't worry about us, you just make yourself comfortable. We'll be fine,” and Gil sits down on the bed, lies down on his belly and unlocks his Kindle. 

He's read about two chapters when Alex starts whining. It's not a continuous sound – it keeps breaking, and every time he stops making sound John kisses him, calls him _good boy_ and every time Alex shudders. His eyes go out of focus, like he's not all the way there, and then he hides his face into John's shoulder, and all the while his hips are moving in a way that looks like he's trying to do _something_. Gil can't figure out _what_.

Okay, look – it's not that Gil is staring. But he kind of is. 

“What's up with that?” asks Gil when it's been a few minutes of Alex trying to control himself. He hasn't really been moving with any sort of rhythm, can't possibly be getting enough friction from John's dick to warrant that much noise, and Gil's kind of curious. John grins at him, not really a secret look but a triumphant look, like he's excited to share his secret with someone, and then he moves the hand he'd been using to type from the keyboard to between his and Alex's bodies. When the hand re-emerges he's holding a small egg-shaped vibrator in it, and Alex is sobbing. 

“Wow, that's – it's really quiet,” comments Gil, because it is. He can hear it now that it's closer to him, but only barely, and only because he knows it's there.   
  
“It really is,” says John, and he sounds so proud about it that Gil laughs, “it's really powerful too, though.” Gil looks at Alex, whose cheeks are tear-streaked and flushed, and he believes John. 

“How many times has he come?” he asks, and John, in his cheery voice, “no idea.” John fumbles with the vibrator, puts it back in place, and Alex's back goes straight as a rod, just like that. “Nn,” says Alex. “Sh, baby, be good,” says John. 

Gil picks up his kindle again. John goes back to typing.

–

Alex takes John up on his proposal for sounding almost a month later.

His hands shake a little, maybe, but he puts his mouth on him, tries to get his tongue into the slit, and when that doesn't quite work he pulls off, runs the tip of his pinky finger around the tip, dips his fingernail in. He's intimidated by the concept of putting lube _into_ John's dick but he does it anyway and John's almost dizzy with how much he loves him, kisses him until he's breathless and then he's handing him the sound and Alex, his sweet Alex with his shaking hands, is putting it in. 

It's not one of his scary sounds – it's the one that curves at the end, looks like a heart when it's all the way in, relatively thin, steel, shorter than some of his other ones. It's smooth. He kind of wants to introduce Alex to the one that looks like a miniature pearl necklace, the one that you can see from the outside when it's in but he knows that it would probably freak him out. Maybe later. Some other time.   
  
“Fuck me with it?” requests John softly when it's in, and Alex takes in a shuddering breath, and then he does, slow, shallow, and John lets out a string of swear words because it _aches_ but it's so _good_ to be full like this. 

Alex stops at some point, wraps his hand around John's dick instead, gives him a couple good tugs and then John is fucking up into his fist because he'd forgotten how weird it feels to have his dick touched like this, and then Alex puts his thumb on the tip of his dick, right where the sound slips in, and John makes a guttural noise he's not too proud of.   
  
“Nice,” whispers Alex.   
  
“Shut up,” says John. 

Makes Alex pull the sound out right when he's about to come and laughs when Alex grumbles about getting come on his face.

–

“Do _not_ put that popsicle in any one of my orifices.”

“Not even your mouth?”

“Okay, yes, fine, mouth, yeah, that's good. Please do put the popsicle in my mouth.”

John dips the popsicle in Gil's mouth shallowly.   
  
“How is it?” he asks.   
  
“It tastes like food dye and sugar,” complains Gil, and John rolls his eyes.   
  
“I meant is it too cold,” and Gil rolls his eyes right back at him, says “it just came from the _freezer_. It's solid. Yes it's cold. Put it on my body, please.”

He's lying on top of a towel. This was Alex's idea, like so many great ideas in their relationship are. Alex saw them lying down with the bucket of ice and the popsicle and looked like he was about to have an aneurysm and then he was laying down a towel and telling them to stay on top of it, or else. He'd slipped into the garden with his sunglasses and his laptop, claiming that he can handle a little bit of heat. (This is true – Alex is stubborn enough to force himself to handle virtually anything he decides he's going to handle.)

It's hot. They've got to face the facts. This is one of the serious downsides of their house – it's hard to keep at a livable temperature no matter what temperature it is outside. Usually Gil would never engage in any sort of sexual acts in this type of weather but John has his ways. Gil doesn't like saying no to John. He doesn't _want_ to say no to John. 

So now John is looming over him, shirtless but still in his boxers, holding the popsicle in his hand.   
  
“Are you going to do it?” asks Gil, because John hasn't touched him yet. “Hm,” says John, and then he puts it in his mouth. Well – more specifically he shoves it down his throat as far as it'll go, and makes a few whimpering noises that Gil doesn't know if he should find amusing or arousing. 

When John removes the popsicle from his mouth it's shiny. Starting to melt. John moves his hand so that he's holding it right above Gil's left nipple, and some drips onto him. 

“Stop teasing me,” whines Gil, and John giggles, puts the popsicle down. 

“Hm,” says Gil, shudders.   
  
“Hm?” asks John. He's trailing the tip up and down his chest, and it's a weird sensation, a pinpoint specific one, a rounded out one.   
  
“It's good. Keep going.”  
  
John kisses his shoulder. “Wait til I put the ice cubes on you.” There's something alarming in the way John says _on you_. 

“On me?” asks Gil, unsure. John uses the melting popsicle to trace a pattern into the dip of his stomach as he thinks. Or pretends to. Gil has no idea.   
  
“Or maybe _in_ you. I haven't decided yet.”

Gil wishes –

He wishes that the idea of John putting ice cubes _inside_ of him didn't sound as hot as it does.

–

“It's like three and half fingers?” guesses Gil. Alex frowns.

“Whose fingers?”

“Mine, duh,” answers Gil, and shows Alex his fingers. Alex keeps frowning as Gil wiggles his fingers a bit.

“Which finger does the half come from? Half an index finger or half a pinkie? Thumb? Are all three fingers the same finger or do you just mean the three middle fingers? Half vertically or half horizontally?”

Gil frowns down at his own hand. 

“Are we even counting thumbs as fingers?” asks John from the bed. He's sitting on his knees, legs apart, and honestly, his thighs are getting a little sore but at this point he's intrigued by the course this conversation is taking. He'd thought this would have turned into sex ages ago but here they are, twenty minutes later, still not any closer to getting anywhere.  
  
“Yeah,” says Gil at the same time as Alex says “no,” and then there's a tense silence for a few seconds.   
  
“Thumbs are, by definition, fingers,” says Gil.   
  
“Have you ever had a thumb inserted in your body?” asks Alex.   
  
“You just put your thumb in my mouth less than five minutes ago,” reminds Gil, and Alex pouts.   
  
“Hey, Alex, I'll put my thumb in you,” says John, and Alex sticks out his tongue at John. 

“Anyway,” says Alex, “I still think it's four, maybe four and half fingers. Half being half a ring finger, vertically.”  
  
“That's because your fingers are both thinner and shorter than mine.”  
  
“Shut up Gilbert, not all of us can have freakishly large hands.”  
  
“I have large hands,” John chimes in, mock-hurt, “good to know that you think they're freakish.”  
  
“You know I love your hands.” 

John winks and makes a crude hand gesture. Gil pretends that he's uncomfortable but he's doing such an awful job that both Alex and John roll their eyes at him.   
  
“Please don't talk about things like this around me, I am uncomfortable with sexual things” says Gil, which is provably untrue because he's naked and idly touching himself but John doesn't see it necessary to comment on this lie.   
  
Alex, the eternal pleaser, says, “I love your hands and am extremely comfortable with them in any context,” and John hums approvingly. Alex moves closer to him and John pulls him down until he's lying down on the mattress next to his feet, gives him a kiss for his troubles. 

“Wait, nevermind,” says Gil when John slips two fingers into Alex, “I'm changing my mind.” 

“Too bad,” says John, and slides in a third finger. It goes in easily, just slips in, and Gil can't stop looking. John moves his fingers, spreads them out. Alex makes a noise, and John hushes him gently. Gil pouts.   
  
“You should have considered this three minutes ago.” 

Gil keeps pouting as he watches Alex fuck himself on John's fingers, and John reaches out with one finger to touch his face, something you couldn't even call petting. Just touching. Gil takes a step back and scowls.   
  
“He should touch me,” says Alex, because of course he does.   
  
“Needy,” says John, and puts his mouth on Alex's clit.   
  
“Mean,” says Alex through a gasp. John wrestles his tongue between his fingers and into him, and Alex makes a loud _ah_ sound.   
  
“Can I?” asks Gil. John half-sighs against/into Alex, and then he nods, and backs off. There's a slick sound of John's fingers leaving Alex's body and then Gil is taking John's place between his legs. 

“Hey,” says Gil, and kisses Alex's neck.   
  
“Put your fingers in me, please,” requests Alex. John snickers at them from where he's sitting on his heels at the end of the bed. Alex twists his head so he can make a face at John, and John grins back at him, face all angelic innocence, which would probably work better if he wasn't fucking up into his own fist while doing so. Gil makes eye contact with Alex and says, “we should test my theory,” and shoves three fingers into Alex.   
  
“Oh,” says Alex, and grinds down onto them until they slip in to the third knuckle, “you have bigger fingers than John. Interesting.” 

“Hm,” says John, and moves in closer so he can see better. Gil leans up to kiss Alex which twists his fingers which makes Alex moan, and Gil moves his free hand from cradling Alex's head to his hip, rubs the bone there. John shuffles closer until he can reach between Alex's legs, puts his hand on his belly, his inner thighs, on his clit. 

“Hey, Alex,” says Gil, “you know how you don't think thumbs count as fingers?”

“Mhm,” says Alex, and twists down onto the three hands on him, unsure of which touch he wants more of. 

“Let's say a thumb counts as half a finger.” 

“Ah,” agrees Alex, “I see how that would make sense.” 

John agrees – it's a good idea, but the technical aspect of it seems a little dubious, considering that for Gil to be able to get his thumb in to the knuckle he'd have to put in his pinky and most of his hand as well. It's not that he doesn't _support_ Gil putting his entire hand in Alex, but he feels like it would not be ideal in this particular context.   
  
“Um,” says John, and stills his fingers on Alex's clit, “how will that work?” 

Gil takes him by the wrist and guides his hand down like that explains anything. Granted, it does – John says “ah, of course,” and then he slips his thumb in. 

Well – not so much slips, considering that it's sort of a stretch and Alex whines, clenches down on the intrusion, and John pauses but then he's saying “put it in, God, do I really have to do all the work here,” and John slides his thumb down to the knuckle. It's weird, and with the added pressure and _presence_ of Gil's fingers he's got the pad of his thumb pressed right against muscle, or whatever it is, and when he applies pressure Alex shudders. 

“You're not a very good sub,” says John.   
  
“We're not doing a scene right now,” says Alex, “leave me alone.” Gil snickers and swipes a thumb over Alex's clit, makes him moan just like that.   
  
“Mm,” considers John, “should we be?” and Alex says “nah, I feel like bossing you around.” 

“Okay,” interrupts Gil, “what do you think? Was I right?” 

Alex looks thoughtful for a second. “I guess? Hard to say accurately since I'm not sure if I remember correctly what I’m comparing this to. Maybe I should be reminded.”

“Liar,” mumbles Gil, but he draws his fingers out at the same time as John reaches for a condom, and Alex grins, shameless and smug.

–

(“I like it when you take the control like this,” says John, voice breathy and pupils blown. Gil's got him with his back against the wall, arms between his own back and the wall, and John's spiraling. He's on his tiptoes, Gil's holding him up with one hand on his throat, the other one in his boxers, stroking him slowly.

“Shut up,” says Gil, all breezy, and squeezes John's dick just under the head on the upstroke, “Alex will hear us.”

Which is – untrue, and wouldn't matter if he did, but there's something about the idea of getting _caught_ that Gil knows John loves. He wants to be nice to his boyfriend. Sue him. 

John makes a sound that comes from somewhere deep in his chest and that Gil can _feel_ when it goes through his throat, sort of half-heartedly tries to stop its journey with his hand. It doesn't quite work but the sound comes out strangled and Gil laughs, breathy, lets John drop onto his feet. He's pretty like this. Gil swipes a thumb over the head of his cock, lets precome collect on his thumb, takes his hand out of John's boxers.   
  
“Hey, baby,” he whispers, and John opens his eyes, goes “mmm,” already a little drifty, and Gil slips his thumb into his mouth. John makes a soft sound, sucks gently. Gil moves his other hand until he's got a good grip on John's neck, finds his carotid arteries. John's mouth goes slack. Gil takes his thumb out of John's mouth, puts his hand back into his boxers. 

Four seconds. Gil lets go. John slumps into him a little, and Gil pushes him backwards into the wall, gently, kisses his jaw, his neck, his face, until John is saying “okay,” and then Gil starts stroking his cock, puts pressure on his arteries again. On and off, on and off. Steady rhythm. 

When John comes it's with a shuddering exhale, and Gil pulls him into his chest, slides them both down onto the floor.   
  
“I love you,” John mumbles into his sweater.   
  
“I love you too, sweetheart,” says Gil into John's hair, “what do you need?” and John half-shrugs.   
  
“Just hold me for a bit, I'll be fine in a few minutes.”   
  
Gil presses a kiss into his hair, then another, and then a few more, and John sighs, and his body goes heavy. 

A few more minutes later John is asleep against him. Gil's not worried – this is something John does almost every time he gets the roles reversed on him. He's exhausted most of the time as it is and this sort of thing always sucks the energy out of him. Gil kisses his forehead, pulls him in closer. 

Alex walks into the room.   
  
“You guys doing okay?” he asks. Gil nods, puts one finger on his lips. John leans into his shoulder a little firmer, goes a little heavier against him, and Alex smiles.   
  
“Be safe,” he says, and then he goes.   
  
Gil watches him walk out. Looks at John. Looks out the kitchen window.

The leaves of the apple trees are turning yellow. Gil thinks about apple sauce.)

**Author's Note:**

> yell at me on tumblr @laflams or twitter @softlams thx bye


End file.
